Merry Christmas To All, And To All a Good Fright!

Happy Holidays!


Did everyone spend themselves stupid? Not yet? Don't worry, New Year's Eve is coming. That'll finish the job on your bank account, rest assured.

In the meantime, my book 99 Brief Scenes From the End of the World will be available for one measly buck until January 1st. Buy that shit, yo.

I'm going to be a busy, busy little horror writer in the next few months or so - I have projects that are angrily jostling for position to be next. I can't wait to share them with you all.

I will now present to you my new holiday classic, "The Krampus Came Instead". I hope that you all have a safe, relaxing and gift-laden holiday season.

The Krampus Came Instead



Santa didn't come to see us last night

The Krampus came instead

He came down the chimney with a burlap sack

And stole us all from our beds

Now, the Krampus is a horrid sight

A sight that cannot be unseen

He's short and squat and hairy and fat

A foul and devilish fiend

The Krampus lives in a dank old cave

Full of bats, pale toads and rats

The floor is littered with pajamas and bones

And the carpets are made out of cats

As Santa rides upon his sleigh

On a cold and crisp Christmas eve

The Krampus rides a rotting mule

And punishes all your bad deeds

He leaves no gifts behind in his wake

He feels no love in his heart

His teeth are sharp and his eyes are red

And his claws will tear you apart

Santa eats cookies and sugar-plum pie

A man eats meat, cheese and bread

But the Krampus feasts on naughty children

And uses their skins for his bed

And their souls he keeps all for himself

He keeps them locked up in a box

And what happens to them? Nobody knows

Maybe he wears them as socks!

Santa didn't come to see us last night

The Krampus came instead

To bite us and beat us, kick us and bleed us

And then he chopped off our heads!

The End is Nigh

Oh, wait, no it's not.


Every few years or so, some wingnut/a collection of wingnuts will declare that the world is about to end, due to some quasi-religious/science fiction event that is beyond our control.

Repent! The end is nigh.

Then the portended date comes and goes, and nothing happens. Don't those people feel fucking stupid after it's all said and done? Jesus, the embarrassment that they must feel ... I'd be unable to look friends or family in the face for a long, looooong time after that. I mean, fuck, just imagine - you've spent weeks, maybe months ranting at everyone that you know the truth, everyone's gonna fucking die! You quit your job, wipe out your savings to buy a pallet of emergency food and water, reinforce your windows and doors - maybe even have a teary-eyed, snot-running tantrum with your loved ones because THEY WON'T TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY!

And then ... nothing. The sun rises, and then it sets. Nothing happens.

The main thing to remember is that, at some point, you are going to die. You don't know when, or how, but you know that it will happen. So - just stop worrying about it. Live your life the best you can and fuck worrying about shit that you couldn't possibly have control over. Chill out, man...

Having said all that, here's a little story to play on your fears -

12/21/12



At the red light, you turn to your wife so that you can give her your undivided attention; she is telling you that Mitch has a dental appointment next Friday, a fitting for braces - you have to be early, she says, to fill out the paperwork. There is more, but now you're missing it, because something is happening behind her that has caught your attention. There is a blazing fire in the sky. No - there are many of them, and they're coming in fast.

No, you think. No, this can't be happening - no ...

But yes, it is happening, right now it's happening while your wife drones on about mundane things that are never going to take place. The balls of light are streaking in, bearing down in a deadly celestial hail that cannot be survived, and she doesn't know it yet. Can you keep her attention, so that she might die innocent of the horror you currently feel? You try the best you can; you try to smile and nod vigorously at her, but you can't take your eyes off of what is coming and now she's turning her head, she's craning around to look and she's screaming but you can't hear her and you're screaming too and the light is everythi

Motherfuckin' ZOMBIES

Better late than never!


I just got back from work, and fuck, man ... you wanna talk zombies? I work in a manufacturing plant FULL of them. I mean, seriously - the powers that be have refined breaking the human spirit down to a fine science.

I like to push my book a lot, but I won't today - shit, you can click on the link in the sidebar, you're not dumb. Today, I'm going to give you zombie-hoppers a link to a story of mine that has a special place in my heart, because it's rooted in superstition from the old country - Romania. The story is based partly in fact, and has folklore-ish monsters. What more do you want from me, really?

Here's the link ... enjoy!

Strigoi

Revisiting My Salad Days

Getting nostalgic already?


About a year ago, I was out of work, riding the unemployment insurance train to Boredomsville. It was kind of a low point - there I was, exiting my mid-thirties with no job, and nothing to show for my "music career" except for a few unpopular albums and a lot of miles on the van's odometer. I felt ... ah, not good. Like a loser.

Then I remembered about writing.

All through my later childhood/teen years, I struggled to become a decent horror writer. I wanted to be like my literary heroes. Of course, I wasn't anywhere near patient or mature enough at that time to be any good at spinning a scary yarn. In fact, I sucked at it. Real bad. In my early twenties, I finally said "Fuck it!", and quit trying. Not too long after, I picked up the guitar, and that particular odyssey began. Years passed, and I forgot all about writing in my pursuit of rock 'n roll glory.

But, last winter, whilst stuck in my rut, I remembered about the joy of losing myself in the creation of different characters, dramatic situations, and (of course) monsters of all kinds. So I penned a short story; a nasty little zombie-type tale called Nine Brief Scenes From the End of the World. The girlfriend encouraged me to post it on Reddit.com,  so I did. It garnered enough praise and attention to be chosen for the NoSleep Podcast, a podcast dedicated to narrating the stories of the Reddit horror writing community. This gave the story even more attention, and a few encouraging comments from readers inspired me to expand it into the full-length novel that some of you might be familiar with, 99 Brief Scenes From the End of the World, an opus that was originally published as an online serial. I then self-pubbed it on Amazon and Createspace - to date, I've sold a few hundred copies on Kindle, roughly one hundred paperbacks, and have given away over 4000 free Kindle copies during free promotions. Not bad, for a guy who got into the game just 12 months ago.

Well, this is Story Time, so why don't I go ahead and show you the short story that started this whole ball rolling? It's a quick, fun, ugly little read. Enjoy!

9 Brief Scenes From the End of the World